


Evening on the Ground

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-War, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: When Harry is called to Romania on a gruesome case, he finds someone  involved whom he thought was out of his life for good. Now, Harry has to  reconcile his own complacency with the unseen force that is constantly  throwing them together.





	Evening on the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> LYRICS BY IRON AND WINE
> 
> written for Bottom_Draco fest on LJ 

Harry Potter shuffled along through the fallen, acrid smelling, wet leaves that littered the forest floor. The trees were so dense in this area of the country that light was nearly blocked out by the canopy. Leftover rainwater drizzled from leaves and onto Harry’s head, keeping him aware enough to focus on the task at hand and not get swallowed up by the thick, Romanian forest.

The only spots of green among the fiery oranges, yellows and reds of the leaves were the stately needles of the pine trees. Those same needles kept his feet so quiet, he didn’t need his customary charms to mask his progress. He wasn’t necessarily hunting anyone, but the situation was so vague, he didn’t want to take any chances.

This mission to Romania was his first as head of an Auror Unit. Harry didn’t want the job. He told the Head Auror Gawain Robards that he wasn’t experienced enough, that he wasn’t right for the part, but the old wizard was having none of it. Harry suspected it was just another way to put him on a pedestal to suit the Ministry’s needs, and it made him bitter.

When Harry first joined the Aurors, under Kingsley’s Ministry, he was surprised at how normal he felt. The men and women treated him as a brother-in-arms instead of The Boy Who Lived. He breathed a sigh of relief when he failed his first test and got a good ribbing about it in the locker room. He was finally doing what he loved, for his own reasons, and in his own way.

However, his entire new found normalcy came into question when he was given that appointment. And as he dug around the forests of Romania with his team scattered throughout a fifty kilometer radius, Harry had to fight the urge to murmur grumpily to himself. Lives were at stake, and he forced himself to focus on that.

The Chancellor of Magic in Romania had contacted the Aurors to help him with an increasingly worrisomeproblem. While Romania had their own defenses, ones honed on centuries of Eastern European power and belief, they could not put a stop to it, and they were getting nowhere.

In the past week, seven bodies had shown up littered across Muntii Maramureşului Natural Park. All of them had been cursed to blindness with their eyes sewn shut premortem. Then, they had been stripped naked, killed, and dumped in the forest. The most disturbing thing was the time carved into their bodies, also premortem, that seemed to tell the investigators that time was running out. But until what, they had yet to discover.

The last body found had read “96.00”, and judging by the previous bodies, they were going down in hours. They now had ninety six hours until whatever was planned would be going down. The Romanian Ministry and the Aurors worked together, but couldn’t figured out who it was, what they wanted, or why they had chosen to deliver a warning at all.

While investigating, Harry decided to stay in Charlie Weasley’s cabin on the Romanian Dragon Reserve, located inside the natural park. Haveing a safe and untraveled area to keep their dragons was the reason why the park was set up at a protected area in the first place. He preferred staying somewhere more homelike than a boarding house, and if he were honest with himself, Harry had been unaccountably lonely for the past year.

One year ago, Ginny walked away from him, sadly and with resignation, saying that she wasn’t what he wanted. He begged her to stay, but she said he was just in love with the idea of having someone. It cut through Harry like a knife, but he realized later that in his bitter loneliness it wasn’t Ginny he missed, but someone. He missed someone, and Harry didn’t know who it was yet, but it wasn’t Ginny.

Ron and Hermione had moved in together six months ago, and Harry felt Ron’s loss in the big, empty Grimmauld Place, acutely, but it wasn’t Ron that he needed either. He still was at Ron and Hermione’s nearly every day, but he woke up every morning alone in his bed, chilled and sweating with nightmares of the horrors he had seen.

The dense forests, peaked mountains, and grassy meadows had also attracted Neville to the park, and he was staying on the reserve as well. He was spending the first semester gathering up vital ingredients for Professor Sprout. Neville had been studying under her since the end of the war, and she was bolstering her stores for her retirement at the end of the year. Neville was thrilled to tell Harry he would be her replacement. Harry couldn’t get over the thought that one of his friends was going to be a Hogwart’s professor, and an incredulous smile broke his face every time he imagined it.

Suddenly, green sparks shot from an area west of Harry, high in the sky. He apparated immediately.

“Fuck, Potter, this one’s not more than ten years old!” Bradley, Harry’s best friend in the department was kneeling next to a pale, still form. He looked as though he would be sick, and there was a tear in his eye.

Harry conjured a blanket and wrapped the boy in it, covering his body and face. When the boy was covered, Bradley regained a little more composure and conjured a stretcher. He picked up the limp child and laid him on the wooden plank with such tenderness, that Harry immediately felt the pain of the unknown loss rise in his own throat.

They had seventy two hours to end this, and they weren’t any closer to figuring out the deadly, morbid riddle.

_hey man_  
evening on the ground  
and there is no one else around  
so you will  
blame me 

“Draco? Do you think anyone is going to find us?” Draco Malfoy was startled awake by the meek, scared voice of Carl Shunpike. “I don’t think they’re coming.”

“We’ll be found. The Romanian Ministry might be clueless, but England will get involved. Merlin knows there’s enough egocentric ponces eager to play The Hero at The Ministry of Magic. They’ll be flocking here the moment they’re invited,” Draco answered. He tried to sound cold and confident, so the boy wouldn’t be scared and he could rest, but he could feel his throat tighten. He didn’t see a way out from their fate at all.

By watching the light underneath the door of their large, sweltering room, Draco had calculated they had been imprisoned for about a week. One day, while attempting to do his shopping in Diagon Alley without being harassed, Draco was taken with no fanfare, no sound, and no one even looking in his direction. He woke to find himself chained to a wall in a room with six other people.

When the ominous, fully-hooded figures who took them had left their dungeon, the other people introduced themselves. All but one were of age, though young, and they held onto their composure the best they could. Draco recognized Yaxley’s daughter Maria and Avery’s daughter Lola together against one wall. The three men introduced themselves as Lucas Scabior, Richard Runcorn, and Bartholemew Rookwood. He knew why they were all taken once introductions were made, though he didn’t know what was to be done with them.

The little boy was Stan Shunpike’s, and while none of them deserved to be there, this child didn’t even fit. Shunpike was imperiused, he wasn’t even a real Death Eater. And yet, here was his only child, lanky but not homely, like his father, and shaking violently with fear. Draco was the nearest to him, so he comforted him the best he could.

Each day, another one of them was taken, starting with the nearest to the door and working their way over toward him and Carl. The remaining prisoners could hear screams and shrieks of agonizing pain, pleading for death, and the finally chilling silence. Every time, Draco vomited. He didn’t attempt to hide his fear, he never found himself that courageous anyway, and his body shook violently under the weight of his own imminent death.

He let Carl sleep on his shoulder, despite how hot the room was, and after days in the fear and uncertainty of that dungeon, Draco found more courage than he had ever had. He wanted Carl to live. Everything about this situation was sick, but Carl made it all the worse. Carl shouldn’t be there, couldn’t be there, and the thought of how tragic it was played over and over in Draco’s mind in the darkness of the sweltering dungeon.

When Runcorn was taken, and his deep, booming voice screamed out in pain, Draco held on tightly to Carl. He had never held anyone in his entire life, save for his mother, but necessity said that Carl deserved this much. After all, Carl was most assuredly the next one.

After they took the little boy, Draco forced himself to listen to every cry, every scream. That boy deserved that much, and whoever his mother was needed to know that someone was there with him at the end. When the building fell silent again, and Draco was alone, he thought of his own mother, clinging to him and whispering that it would be okay as The Dark Lord took up residence in their home. He remembered the horror, the fear, and the torture when he didn’t succeed fully in a task The Dark Lord had set or if he was just feeling malicious. He reveled in the memories, hoping he could sink into them when the moment came that he would meet the same fate as Carl.

He almost sighed in relief when the door finally opened for him.

 

_blame me for the rocks and baby bones_  
and broken lock on our  
garden 

 

Forty eight hours had passed in Romania and Harry had made no progress. He sat at the desk in his small cabin, poring over a map of the park and charting the locations of the various bodies with his wand. He tried not to picture the little boy, or the grotesque things that were done to him before they killed him, but the image kept attacking him from all angles.

Neville, Charlie and Bradley sat in the room with him, trying to help him. They went over the reports over and over again, trying to find a common thread. Neville, feeling far too removed from his element, set about making tea, and had a steaming cup sitting next to Harry within moments.

“I just can’t figure this out. What do they want? Who are they?” Harry said, gripping his hair tightly.

“Harry, you can do this. You were a perfect choice for unit leader. You’ve got a good relationship with your team, you are hard working, and because of this, you’ve got a motivated group of people behind you who can help you solve this,” Neville put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “There’s still time, and there’s one more person left that you can save.”

Neville left the teacup on Harry’s desk and went back over to where Charlie was sitting to try to talk out the facts of the case. He flicked his wand, and the dots he marked for the locations of the bodies on the map rose up. When Harry was looking at the red dots at eye level, something hit him. He couldn't believe he didn’t see it before.

“The bodies were dropped in a circle around this point!” Harry shouted, causing everyone in the cabin to jump. “See right here? It’s about a fifty meter area here in the middle of the scatter.”

“We have to go there, right now,” Bradley said.

“I’m coming with you!” Neville and Charlie said at the same time.

“Nev, I don’t think you have the clearance. The reserve is helping us out, but I didn’t get the approval…”

“Fuck your approval, Harry. That little boy…what if…what if there are more?” Neville said, looking haunted. Harry figured he needed all the help he could get.

“Captain Potter!” Someone shouted, running up toward his door.

“Wendy. Good. Get everyone together, we’ve got a location,” Harry said, spelling his boots tied and summoning his cloak.

“Yes, sir. But first, you should know, we found a common thread between all of the victims.” Harry lifted his eyebrows and she continued. “They are all the children of Deatheaters in Azkaban.”

“Oh…oh god.”

“Yaxley, Runcorn, Avery, Rookwood, Scabior, and Shunpike,” she said, her voice faltering at the last word. It was common knowledge that Harry was working to get Stan Shunpike freed under the argument that he couldn’t fight off the imperius, and he was coerced in every way imaginable to serve Voldemort. He also had a young son.

“Oh sweet Merlin, the boy,” Harry murmured, trying to maintain his composure.

“Carl Shunpike, sir.”

They mounted their brooms and flew toward the location Harry had mapped out. The trip only took a few minutes, but Harry found himself drowning in thought. There were only a few Death Eaters left in Azkaban who had children and who haven’t been victimized already. Harry began listing the names off in his head.

He could only think of three people left, three families: The Malfoys, the Goyles, and the Mulcibers.

Harry’s mind wandered to the day of The Malfoy’s trial, when Lucius was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban for serving Voldemort. Harry had spoken out, told the truth, to get as much leniency as possible. And with his recounting, Narcissa was spared and Draco given just probation. The relief Harry felt that day as he took Narcissa’s hand and thanked her was overshadowed by the shocked, scared look on Draco’s pale, gaunt face. Harry didn’t have to think hard to assume that Draco was the only one left to be blinded and killed.

Lucius Malfoy had his own cell in Azkaban. Words of Narcissa’s betrayal and Draco’s freedom had caused so much backlash that Mr. Malfoy would have been killed if they didn’t increase the security of his imprisonment. Both sides hated the Malfoys, and more than once there were calls over the Auror Wireless asking for assistance after Narcissa or Draco was assaulted. Harry ignored them, and let someone else take the call. He couldn’t face it anymore.

The found a decrepit barn directly where Harry said it would be, and the magic around the structure swirled and surged powerfully. Harry’s team, the workers on the Dragon Reserve, and Neville landed softly, disillusioning themselves to blend in with the trees and disguising their steps. As Harry signaled for them to move, and he made his way to a door on the north side.

 

He heard the screams as soon as his team dropped the wards. He knew that cry anywhere; it invaded his nightmares when he thought of the fire in the Room of Requirement. It was Draco Malfoy, and they were doing to him what they had done to all of the others. But he was still alive.

Rage exploded behind Harry’s eyes, rage like he hadn’t felt in years, and he didn’t pause to try to explain it. He burst into the barn for a blitz attack, the way he had discussed with his team, and he hoped he had enough fighters and ward-setters to keep the villains at bay. He came into a large, empty room with a gigantic furnace. He immediately began to sweat, and set about checking for threats as quickly as possible.

Shouts to the west of Harry caused him to run toward the commotion. He bounded in, through a circular dungeon with seven sets of chains on the wall, and into a room that looked like a morbid surgery. The battle was in full swing, as three hooded figures fought off his 5 fighters. With a sudden force that knocked the wind out of Harry, the smallest opponent waved their wand and took down the anti-apparation wards his team had set. They were gone in an instant.

He wouldn’t look over at the table, where whimpers of pain were echoing forth with unsettling familiarity. He couldn’t go over there. For reasons beyond what Harry could explain, he couldn’t stand to see it, and couldn’t stand what he may do if confronted with Draco Malfoy in that condition. He turned his back and began yelling.

 

“Wendy, Marcus, you two are tracking…right now!” Harry said, and two of his Aurors ran from the room. “I need two of you to gather every single stitch of evidence you can get from this place. Get the reserve workers to help comb the land outside. Bradley, I need you with me…” Harry took one glance toward the table, saw the blood, and looked away. “And will someone please get him patched up and to the reserve hospital, I…”

“I’ve got this one,” Neville said softly, looking slightly scared as he walked over toward the table.

(((())))

_garden wall of eden_  
full of spiderbites and all your lovers  
we were 

He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see anything. As soon as they cast that blindfold curse on him, they began to push the needle roughly through his eyelids. The burning pain was nothing compared to the feeling of their dull blade cutting across his chest. Oh why didn’t they just kill him before they did this?

The pain sliced through him and the morbid feeling of his own blood dripping down his sides sent waves of panic through him, but as he shook, the wounds only hurt more. His captors were completely silent, and with his vision out of the equation, it seemed as though a knife was cutting through him of its own accord. But whenever Draco’s cries subsided, he heard heavy breathing.

Just as he was about to pass out from the shock, a menacing voice spoke up. “Oh Draco, it pains me to spill such pure blood, but your mother is a traitor. Like all of those cowards living it up in Azkaban, she gave up her years of loyal service to avoid death. So now, you, who have also avoided punishment and ran from your pureblood duties are going to pay for your parent’s crimes.”

He didn’t recognize the man, and the voice caused his failing heart to race. “How original,” he managed to groan out.

Someone pressed a finger into his wounds, and Draco screamed. He heard no sound but his own voice, splintering through his head. When he choked on blood rising in his throat, he heard a battle cry. Someone had finally found him.

He heard the yelling, the fighting, and when he heard a woman’s voice cast a dark spell that Voldemort used to utter to take down wards, he feared he would be taken as well. But the ‘crack’ of apparation left him lying on the table, with the heavy breathing and booted footfalls of whomever his saviors were scurrying around him.

Draco panicked again. Would anyone even help him? What if he died right there? He had no idea who anyone was or where he was, and he couldn’t see to find the closest exit. He thought if he could see he could at least run. He was convinced everyone was out to hurt him at this point, and Draco wanted so badly for the pain to stop that he began to struggle to get up, despite the pulling at his wounds when he moved.

He heard someone shouting orders, and Draco tried to divert his focus from his pain long enough to hear what was going on. His entire body tensed as he recognized Harry Potter’s voice doing the shouting. Draco knew Potter was Auror, but he was convinced they were all going to hurt him too. Seven days in a dungeon and then one hour of unimaginable pain had left Draco more than a little paranoid, and afraid of the darkness he was plunged into. He struggled more desperately to move.

Potter asked someone to take care of him, and Draco heard him mention a hospital, but he knew they would just hurt him more. When the soft voice of Neville Longbottom spoke up, Draco froze and felt a light spell move over him. He was moved to a hard, flat plank and bound to it. He fought desperately to escape.

“Malfoy…Malfoy …Draco. We’re not going to hurt you. It’s Neville Longbottom, and I’m going to get you someplace safe,” He said close to Draco’s ear. Draco didn’t believe him. After all he did to Longbottom in school, maybe Draco was going to be punished for that as well. He couldn’t take anymore punishment.

“Please. No more. I promise I’ll disappear,” He said, shamed at his own begging, but desperate to stay alive.  
“Draco, I am not going to hurt you. I am just going to get you patched up,” Longbottom said, sounding weary. Draco fought against his bonds again, and he felt the wound over his stomach split open.

“I need help!”

Draco heard footsteps, and listened with trepidation as another person approached. He kept listening for an army of men, but nothing ever came, there was only a few people in the room now. Three people, just like before. Draco fought as hard as he could, ignoring the blood pouring from his chest.

“I’m shite at healing spells, Harry, but I can seal them temporarily,” an unfamiliar voice said, and Draco felt the warmth of a spell across his abdomen.

“Don’t hurt me. I can’t take anymore.”

“It’s not like that, Malfoy,” Potter whispered, placing a warm hand around his upper arm. He could feel Potter’s body heat against his bare chest, and for the first time in days, he felt safe.

A sleeping spell washed over him, and Draco welcomed it.

((((()))))))))))

“You know that Malfoy is the only way we are ever going to figure out who is doing this in time to stop whatever it is they are planning,” Bradley said, going over the notes behind the evidence they had found in the assailant’s barn. The key find was a plant indigenous to this area of Romania only that can cause a person to permanently freeze, stuck immovable and in their own minds for the rest of their lives. It was being brewed into a Draught of Living Death and put into vials.

Neville had found the plant almost immediately upon reviewing the evidence, and he called in a Romanian potions expert to help him devise an antidote just in case. Harry already had a letter of commendation written up and was ready to send it the moment this nightmare was over. He also had in mind a generous donation to the dragon reserve.

“Well why isn’t Malfoy talking?” Harry asked, breaking himself out of his own thoughts.

“Neville says he’s bloody well near catatonic. He’s afraid of everyone….not to mention he still cannot see.”

“Fuck, we haven’t solved that curse yet?”

“No, but we’ve got all the experts we can on it right now. We just need Malfoy to tell us everything he knows about his captors. We don’t even know how he was taken.” Harry suspected there was something Bradley wasn’t saying.

“Spit it out Richard, I know there’s more,” Harry said, using his Bradley’s full first name for effect.

“The only person he will respond to at all is Neville, and we are thinking it’s because he knows him,” Bradley said, drifting off.

Harry knew what he was getting at, and he knew he’d have to go to the medical cabin and interrogate Draco. He sighed and took another drink off of the mulled mead that Bradley had brought him. He threaded his hands through his hair and groaned. Harry Potter really thought he was done with Draco Malfoy.

He immediately found Neville to be updated on Draco’s condition.

“He’s healed, except for the blindness, but he just sits there, seething and breathing heavily every time someone except for me tries to get near him. And when I even try to ask him a question he flinches and turns away. It’s disconcerting, to say the least, how very afraid Draco Malfoy is. He always seemed above everything,” Neville said, looking at his feet.

“I’ve seen him afraid,” Harry whispered, visions of Draco in the bathroom, on the tower, and in the Room of Requirement swam in his mind. “I’ve seen it.”

“Maybe that’ll help him to give you some information. Narcissa Malfoy has been in hiding for so long, we can’t even think where to look to bring her in to help.”

Harry opened the door to Malfoy’s room and tried to walk in as quietly as he could. Malfoy jumped in the chair he was sitting in, gripping the arms. Despite his best efforts, Harry had been heard. He tried to be as careful and non threatening as he could.

“Malfoy, I…I want to ask you a few questions,” When Harry spoke, Draco’s entire body tensed.

“Potter. I was wondering when they would finally send in their hero to get through to me,” he said, though without the usual bite Harry would have normally expected in Malfoy’s words.

“Well this is already more you’ve said to anyone, so I guess it’s working,” Harry answered, sitting across from Malfoy and trying not to look at his vacant stare.

“Fuck off, Potter.”

“Later, but first we need to know everything you heard, saw, smelled and felt while you were being held captive,” Harry said, hoping a little humor would get Malfoy talking.

“I saw the inside of a room with six other people chained to it. Never once did those bastards lower their hoods when they came in to take another. I felt like my skin was on fire all of the time-“

“That was the furnace they used to brew the potion,” Harry interrupted.  
“Potion?”

“It’s a new concoction that works as draught of the living death, but the person is entirely conscious and the effects are permanent,” Harry answered gravely.

“My father!” Malfoy shouted, leaping up and then wincing in pain. He tried to get back to his seat, but was having a hard time moving and finding just where his chair was. Harry rose up to help him.

“Don’t touch me, Potter!” Malfoy cried when Harry placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Just let me,” Harry started, and Malfoy relented, being let back to his chair. “Your father, Draco. What does he have to do with this?”

“Nothing! He didn’t do anything! You can’t make him stay any longer than he already is, Potter.”

“I don’t want him to. But we’ve got 24 hours until they do whatever it is this people are planning on doing. I just want to stop them,” Harry said, moving closer to Malfoy so he could feel how serious this was.

“They…they said something about unworthy cowardly Deatheaters. They said my mother and father didn’t do their duty to the Dark Lord, and neither did anyone who was currently in Azkaban,” Malfoy said. And very suddenly, he reached over to Harry, gripped his shirt tightly, and pulled him close. “They don’t understand! We just wanted to stay alive! We just wanted out!”

Malfoy was shaking violently now, and Harry reached out and wrapped both of his hands around Malfoy’s wrists. Harry gasped in shock at the urge he had to keep Malfoy’s warm body close, and tried to mask it by clearing his throat. Draco closed his cloudy eyes and leaned in for a moment.

“We’ll get a security detail over to Azkaban right now. That is likely where they were planning their attack,” Harry said, letting go of Draco reluctantly.

“Yes, they mentioned the ‘cowardly wizards in Azkaban’,” Malfoy said, his voice wobbling but much less pained.

“What else did they mention?”

“This scheme they cooked up, killing us, it was all a matter of revenge for Death Eaters they don’t think were loyal enough. Carl…Carl wasn’t even a Death Eater’s son!” Draco said, his head falling to his hands. “Did you find him?”

“Yes we did. He was taken back to his mother in England,” Harry answered gravely.

“I bet you feel good about yourself, Potter. Coming in here to fix things. I bet you were made captain to be some sort of poster boy. There’s a parade for you back in England for once again getting the bad guy,” Malfoy spat bitterly.

“I’m sure there is, Malfoy,” Harry said, losing his patience. He wanted to slam Malfoy up against the wall and…and...Harry needed to get out of that room. “Do you think you’re going to be able to tell us anything about who took you, who sliced you open like a fish and cursed you blind, or are you going to go on badgering me instead?”

“Fuck you, Potter! While you’re off being made captain and being worshipped by all or your adoring fans, some of us are struggling to survive. Forgive me if I can’t think of the details when all I can hear is that little boy dying, all I can feel is the knife cutting across by chest.” Draco was on his feet now, and despite not being able to see, his eyes seemed to be focused directly on Harry.

Harry’s rage was rising up in his chest, but he didn’t want to hit Malfoy. He wanted to destroy the room they were in, he wanted to destroy the hooded specters who had turned him into something defeatist, and he wanted to slam his fist through anything he could get near. He let out a growl.

Draco visible shrunk away, wrapping his arms around his tender middle. Harry felt disgusted with himself both for causing a victim to be afraid, no matter how much of a jerk he was, and also for wanting badly to take that victim in his arms and tell him it was all going to be okay. Harry had no idea where these feelings were coming from, but he swallowed both the anger and the want down as best as he could.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so angry. I’m just really frustrated,” Harry said, taking a seat and hoping Malfoy would sense how much more calm he was.

After a few moments, Draco sat down across from Harry. He took some deep breaths and reached for his water, which Harry slid over to him nonchalantly. When it seemed like the air had cleared a little, Harry pressed on.

“We know one of them was a woman, or at least a woman shaped man,” Harry said, attempting at humor and failing miserably.

“Only one ever talked to me. I didn’t…I didn’t see anything.”

“Did the voice sound familiar at all?”

“Yes, but I assume he was a Death Eater, so he had been in my home at some point.”

“Was there anything distinctive about his accent or word choice?” Harry asked, thinking he may have finally started to crack the thick shell of Draco’s traumatized memory.

 

“He talked to me like he knew me,” Draco whispered, gripping his glass tightly. “He said….he….”

Harry reached out a shaking hand and placed it over Draco’s on the arm of his chair. Draco tensed, then seemed to lift his hand slightly into Harry’s touch. Harry gripped more firmly, running a thumb over Draco’s fingers.

“Lestrange…uncle Rodolphus’ brother. It had to be him, it just had to be.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, got up, and walked quickly out of the room. He not only wanted to hunt down Lestrange as quickly as possible, but he needed to get away from Draco before his own needs got the better of them both. Harry was confused, and he just wanted this entire thing to be over.

But imagining leaving the reserve brought an emptiness inside Harry that surprised and worried him.

_we were born to fuck each other  
one way or another_

It was easy after that. It felt too easy to Harry. With Draco’s information, they found Rebastian, and Amycus and Alecto Carrows as well. In the blink of an eye they were off the reserve and everyone was clamoring for Harry to be promoted yet again. He refused, and immediately took some time off. Everyone nodded their heads in grave understanding, as though Harry deserved a vacation more than anyone in the world. Harry felt ridiculous, and undeserving of all of his praise.

His vacation began inauspiciously, with a lot of firewhiskey, and very little light. He stayed cooped up in Grimmauld Place, which had been renovated and made into a suitable residence, but still felt cold and dark when Harry sat there alone in the wee hours. He had told everyone he would head someplace warm and get some sun, but Harry didn’t even want to see the sun, let alone other people right now.

He felt lonely, and he felt ridiculous for feeling lonely. He knew if Malfoy could see him now he’d be mocking him for feeling sorry for himself. Malfoy was popping in Harry’s mind far too often since the end of the case, and Harry took another drink in the hopes of killing off the image of Malfoy floating around in his mind.

Though the case was over, Harry still felt like he was running out of time. He had no idea what he was building up to, but every day seemed to take him closer to an awful fate he couldn’t name or anticipate. He slipped further into his dark mood as the week progressed, and began to mark the hours off with his pocket knife along the doorjamb to the study.

 

The hours melted into days, and Harry lost himself in his drink, his lonliness, and the anguished lines of Draco Malfoy's face. He didn't understand the power Malfoy had over him, and he didn’t like it. The entirety of his attraction to Draco Malfoy confused him, and the longing only added more hurt to his otherwise dismal vacation.

A pounding on his door broke him out of his stupor enough to go and answer it, though he didn’t even have to ask who it was.

"Mate? Open up! It's getting bloody cold out here!" Ron's voice sounded muffled on the other side of the thick door.

Harry opened the door slowly, flinching at the bright light and the crisp October air. Ron stood there in his maroon Weasley jumper and a scarf, grinning at him with windblown cheeks. "Glad to see you're still alive. Reckon your floo was closed on accident?"

"Completely unaware I did that," Harry answered sarcastically, but smiling none the less. He instantly began to hate himself for shutting down, when his week would have gone so much better with Ron around.

"Hermione is beside herself, but also drowning in a project and a pile of books. This time I think she seriously had a deadline and important research to conduct," Ron smiled sardonically. "So if you don’t' tell me what's going on and head out to the pub for a pint, you'll incur her wrath. No one wants that."

It didn't take long for Harry to shower and shave, and Ron helped himself to some sandwiches as he was doing so. He was looking forward to getting out, to escaping from his own mind for a few hours, and to drinking some different booze. They were on their way to a muggle pub in Ottery St. Catchpole before Harry knew it. He was glad that he and Ron had found enough Muggle pubs in the area where they could drink in peace.

As Harry got thoroughly pissed, again, and Ron's face had turned bright red, people started filing into the pub for the evenings libations. So when the door banged open, Harry paid no attention until the newcomer joined them at their table. He just continued to drink.

When a sobering spell was uttered at Harry, he shot up and drew his wand. He did not like spells being cast on him without his knowledge, even innocuous ones. He was immediately set into battle mode.

Ron stood up in between Harry's wand and the spell caster's. Harry looked up to see Charlie Weasley looking at him with shock. It took a moment of coaxing, but Harry eventually lowered his wand.

"What the fuck, Charlie?" Ron said, exasperated and still obviously drunk. "We worked very hard to build up a good piss!"

"I need to talk to Harry. It's important."

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked, suddenly panicking. He knew Neville was still at the reserve and worried that he had been injured.

"It's Malfoy."

"What did he do?" Ron said, suddenly sounding menacing, and with complete sobriety.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. The head of the hospital down there has been trying to get him help. They can't find his mother, and he's got no next of kin to speak of," Charlie started, rubbing his eyes.

"Yes he does," Harry said, but stopped himself. He thought of Andromeda, home alone with Teddy, and didn't want to bring anything else to her doorstep. "Nevermind."

"He's not talking to anyone. His injuries have healed, but they can't break the curse on his eyes. The specialist says that Malfoy has to fight it himself, but he barely has the will to get out of bed."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"No one will take him in! Every halfway house has turned us down for reasons like lack of space, but we know it has everything to do with his name," Charlie sat down heavily, stealing Ron's pint before continuing. "We don't mind him there, but he isn't getting any better. Our healer is worried about him."

"You seem worried about him too," Ron answered. "Why worry about scum?"

"You weren't there, Ron." Harry whispered, suddenly imagining Malfoy lost in his own head. He had figured Malfoy would recover quickly and go back to a life of haughty indifference. This new information stabbed at his heart, and Harry couldn't ignore the tightness in his chest.

"I understand the bloke isn't complete villainous, but he's still a jerk," Ron said, stealing his pint back from Charlie and swatting him on the arm.

"He screams in the middle of the night. Neville has been giving him a very strong herbal tea, but the rest isn't bringing about any will to go on. He's a suicide risk at this point."

When Charlie said that last sentence, Harry was flooded with images of Draco lying dead by his own hand, or wand, and he leapt up from his table. He put his cloak on, holstered his wand, and made sure his boots were tied. He had to go back to the reserve, and he didn’t' quite understand why. He left the pub and disapparated immediately.

 

_but i'll only lie  
down by the waterside at night_

He didn’t want to see. What was the point? Nothing had been beautiful in so long, that Draco had forgotten what beauty looked like. His mother used to move him, with her pale skin and elegant features, always accentuated by a warm and loving gaze, but she was hiding in Germany and there was no way he would give her up. The gilded crystal on display in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, and the light captured in it's prisms was once beautiful, but Malfoy Manor had been sold, along with its contents, to pay the steep fines of war reparations. Of course Draco had money left, but beauty was gone.

The past four years had only brought terror to Draco's life, and it just got worse and worse. He went from fearing for his father, to fearing for his family, to fearing for his life, and finally enduring something so close to death that Draco could taste the relief in it. He didn't want to see, there was nothing left to look at.

The healers and specialists in Romania had told him that if he just kept fighting, he could remove the curse. They had taken away it's hold on him, but it was up to him to push it out of his mind and clear his vision. They meant well, and they wanted him better, but Draco just wanted his life to end. If it weren't for Longbottom investing so much effort into his recovery, Draco might just give up. As it stood, Draco was about ready to give up despite the prospect of having a friend.

Longbottom came to him every day, smelling of leaves and always sounding happy. Draco remembered the way the Carrows tortured him for defying them and resented the Gryffindor's courage. Draco had sat in the background, ignoring everyone else's pain and trying to stay alive. He wished he would have done more, wished he were more brave than just pretending he didn't know Potter.

But Longbottom also proved to be the only bright spot in his very dark world, and Draco found himself getting out of bed to talk about the ridiculous plants he was so obsessed with. It wasn't enough though. Draco didn't think anything would ever be enough to keep him going again, but he revelled in a friendship, even in his miserable state.

Draco heard them all talking about how there was nowhere for him. He couldn’t go back to his flat, as he was injured and needed help to get around, and yet they couldn't find anyone willing to assist him. Longbottom offered, but Draco declined. He could hear the hurt in Longbottom's voice, but it was out of respect for his new friend, and not distaste. He didn’t want to interfere with Neville's life, particularly his exciting new career. And Draco Malfoy still had pride, even if it was dwindling by the hour.

Draco heard footsteps down the hall long before they made it to his door. He assumed Longbottom was on his way in, and was thankful that his blindness couldn’t see the dirt that herbologist always smelled of. However, when the door creaked open quietly, there was an altogether different smell, and Draco reveled in it but could not place it. A light tapping on the wall finally announced his visitor's presence.

"Who's there?" Draco said, growing frightened by the silence of his visitor.

"Um…"

"Nevermind, someone so vocally gifted can only be Potter. What the hell do you want?"

"I just…Charlie told me that…"

"Out with it. Are you sure you weren't supposed to be sorted into Ravenclaw? I mean, a brilliant mind like yours…"

"Actually the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Potter said, and Draco swallowed his words.

"What?"

"Now who's the brilliant communicator?" Potter answered, and Draco could have sworn he heard a smile in his voice. Draco fought to keep the side of his mouth from rising.

"So you could have been in my house?" Draco asked, his curiosity sparked for the first time in ages.

"In your room even," Harry said, his voice so gruff that Draco felt a chill go down his spine.

"Why didn't you go?"

"I begged the sorting hat not to put me there. The reputation of the house preceded it," Potter explained. "Of course those house stereotypes are ridiculous, but I was eleven years old. Regardless, I am happy I was put in Gryffindor, but a wise person once said 'Sometimes I fear we sort too early."

Gods, Potter was a sap. "Gods, Potter, you're a sap."

"I know, it's awful," He said, and laughed. When Draco heard that laugh, he felt like he was looking at something beautiful, and swallowed back a lump rising in his throat.

"Listen, Malfoy," Potter started.

"I know what you're going to say. That I can be cured. That I need to get out of here. That no one wants my nasty little Death Eater ass around," Draco said, bitterness tasting like bile in the back of his throat.

"Well, yeah. You can see if you try to push the curse away. Then, you can go back to your own flat. Why don't you want to get better?"

The sincerety in Potter's voice was threatening to make Draco's eyes water, and he got up and walked away, remembering the paces it took to get to his wall. He couldn’t face this melancholy in front of his enemy. But was Potter even his enemy anymore? Their feud, their fights, their murderous rancor seemed to be so far in the past, that it involved a different Draco. He jumped when he felt a large, warm hand close around his shoulder.

"You're more than this Draco," Potter whispered, his breath ghosting across Draco's neck. His nerves tingled down to his knees.

His heart started racing when Potter didn't let go. The hunger that laid dormant in his chest flared up, and Draco had to bite his lip. For so long he had felt only fear and uncertainty, but in this moment, the need and desire was overwhelming. New emotions flowed over him like cold water, but Draco just kept on burning. He wanted Potter so badly, he wanted to feel anything besides hopelessness.

As if Potter knew what he was thinking, suddenly his hot, dry lips pressed against Draco's, and Draco gripped Potter's hair tightly, pulling his head in for a deeper kiss. Potter moaned in the back of his throat and pressed Draco hard against the wall. Draco was drowning, and it felt better than anything he could remember. He wrapped his arms around Potter, and when Potter's own embrace echoed his, Draco sighed around their kiss.

His tongue slid languidly into Potter’s mouth, and the other wizard bit lightly before continuing the kiss. His hands danced up Draco’s back, and Draco bucked his hips at the feeling. When his hips collided with Potter’s they both groaned, and began thrusting against each other desperately. Potter’s fingers dug into Draco’s back, and Draco ran his hands over every piece of Potter he could, memorizing the way he felt in that moment.

Draco tugged at Potter’s jumper, needed to feel more, needing to know more. His world was so dark and so cold, but Potter flared with so much heat that Draco’s own cheeks were burning. He spread his hands across Potter’s firm back, trying to envision how his muscles looked writhing under his touch. He leaned his head on Draco shoulder and caught his breath, still clinging tightly. “I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s insanity,” Draco whispered, and smiled when he felt Potter shudder.

“Completely,” Potter said, and he reached down and gripped Draco’s ass firmly. They both gasped at the feeling. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Well, I do,” Draco said, licking a stripe up Potter’s neck.

“Fuck,” Potter groaned, his voice reverberating through Draco’s numb mind and waking him up. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could see. He felt Potter’s nails run up his abdomen, and Draco cried out at the sting.

“I intend to,” He whispered. Potter froze, and Draco smirked. He had Potter like a deer in headlights and he knew it. “Are you scared?”

In answering, Potter kissed Draco again, hard. Draco felt powerful, he felt like he had control over something. He felt safe pressed up against Potter, like nothing could harm him. The thought surprised Draco, but he was too far gone to analyze at this point.

He reached down and cupped Potter’s erection through his jeans, running his hand up and down the thick length with his mouth watering. Draco felt wanton and starving for something other than pain, and Potter offered to give him that in spades. He throbbed hotly in Draco’s hand and Draco’s mouth watered.

He unsnapped Potter’s jeans, lowering the zipper. His stomach lurched for a moment, realizing he couldn’t look Potter in the eye as he undressed him, but he threw the thought from his head quickly by dropping to his knees. He lost his balance, clinging to Potter’s thighs when he misjudged the distance.

Potter grabbed Draco’s shoulders and bent down to help him. Draco couldn’t lose face, not when he finally had some strength back, some of his old self. He pressed his face against Potter’s erection, straining against his pants, and Potter faltered and lost all purpose.

“Draco, I…” Potter sounded like he was about to question what they were doing, was about to back away. Draco needed this too badly.

He tore Potter’s pants away and pressed his lips along the other wizard’s flesh until he finally found his cock. He ran his tongue up the hard length and felt a jolt go through his body at Potter’s cry. He gripped Potter’s arse and pulled his member as far into his mouth as he could. When Potter cried out his name, Draco moaned in the back of his throat and Potter shook. He tasted like want, like power, and like he was meant for Draco.

“Draco, I’ll never last if you keep…ung…if you keep doing this,” Potter said, and his warmth left Draco for a moment before he felt Potter’s breath against his face again. He pulled Draco to him and ran his tongue through Draco’s mouth. The knowledge that Potter could taste what he tasted made him weak.

Potter stood and pulled Draco to his feet, guiding him over to the bed in the center of the room. He nudged Draco back gently and when he was seated, pulled the jumper off of Draco’s head. The chill of the breeze in the room was nothing compared to the knowledge that Potter’s gaze was on him and he couldn’t read his face.

Draco felt himself shiver, and Potter’s warm hands brushed along his torso. He could feel his fingers lingering across Draco’s freshly-healed wounds, and he heard Potter take in a shaky breath. He wasn’t backing down, Draco wouldn’t let him.

“Harry, please,” Draco said, shocked at how easy it was to beg Harry, and at how easy it was to say his given name.

Draco pressed his nose into Harry’s neck, breathing him in and gripping his shoulders tightly. Harry kept his hands over the numbers carved on Draco’s chest, like he was torn. Draco pulled him to the bed, settling underneath him to encourage him. He tried not to look so needy when Harry’s hand ran down the side of his face.

“I’ve never done this before,” Harry whispered.

“Oh Christ, he’s a virgin.”

“Not a virgin, just never, you know, with a bloke. I’ve…”

“Don’t finish the sentence,” Draco said. He understood Harry had likely bedded the Weaselette , but for some reason, he liked the idea of Harry just being his. “Let me pretend your mine.”

“Yours,” Harry whispered, kissing down Draco’s torso and blowing at the waist of his trousers before unhooking the clasps. Draco lifted his hips and allowed Harry to pull off his bottoms, the air against his skin freeing him. “Yours.” Harry said again, kissing the inside of Draco’s thigh.

When Harry pressed his mouth to Draco’s throbbing cock, he thought he had his vision back. For a fleeting moment, the colors exploding behind his eyelids belied a bright and vibrant world. It was beyond his reach, but Harry was real, Harry was there, and for now Harry was his. Nothing had really been his for so long that Draco craved the ownership more than water.

Harry’s fingers teased around Draco’s entrance, and Draco spread his legs, inviting Harry in. He moaned and spit on his fingers. The sound was so vulgar, and so perfect, that Draco was desperate to have any part of Harry inside of him. When Harry’s finger slid inside of him, they both cried out.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked.

“More, Potter.” Draco groaned.

“Only if you stop calling me Potter,” Harry whispered, shoving two fingers inside of him.

“There’s oil.”

“Gods, Draco. You’re…I can’t…this is just…”

“Stop sputtering and fuck me,” Draco said, pulling Harry close to him. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted Harry’s body against his, wanted Harry’s warmth to overtake him.

Draco heard the cap from a vial pop, and he felt cool liquid drip down his crevice. He was so focused that he didn’t even feel Harry’s face hover closely to his. Harry kissed him so reverently, that Draco los this power, lost his control, and was overcome only with his need.

Harry entered him slowly, and Draco gasped. It had been so long, and even longer since he was with someone who wanted him, who seemed to care. Draco lifted his knees and took Harry inside of him, adjusting to the intrusion and trying to keep his heart from exploding in his chest. Harry was whimpering and groaning in equal measure, frozen above him. Draco wrapped his hands around Harry’s smooth upper arms, steadying his trembling body.

He thrust his hips up to Harry, and they both cried out. They built up a rhythm of heat and power until Draco felt like he was going to explode. He reached down only to have his hand pushed away. Harry leaned back and began thrusting wildly, taking Draco’s cock in his hand. When Draco heard Harry cry out his name and felt him spill inside of him, Draco came hard in Harry’s hand. He repeated Harry’s name over and over again.

He fell asleep with Harry’s ridiculous, messy hair brushing up against his chin, and his stubbled face rubbing unpleasantly along his chest. He put a hand over Harry’s back and felt his lungs fill with air and deflate. He had never felt more safe, and more content in his entire life.

Draco woke to find emptiness in his bed. He wanted to whimper, but thought Potter might still be around, and he didn't want to show how weak he was. He rolled over slowly and wrapped his sheet around his body.

"Draco, listen," Potter started. The tone of his voice and the rustling that indicated he was putting on his shoes was all he needed to hear.

"Just get out," Draco said, making his voice as strong as he could. Potter left without another word, and Draco faced another day in darkness.

_hey man_  
tiny baby tears  
i will collect a million years  
and you can  
blame me 

Harry tossed Teddy gently into the air and caught him in his outstretched arms. Teddy squealed with delight and giggled, shouting ‘again!’ until Harry’s arms got tired. He didn’t visit Teddy and Andromeda nearly enough and he was happy for the respite. Ever since he left Draco’s small room on the reserve, he’s been dying for the perfect distraction.

 

Harry had told Andromeda about Draco’s condition, about what he had been through, and to his shock the calm, cool Andromeda actually wept. She insisted that she be allowed to take Draco in. Harry was speechless for a moment, but he couldn’t deny the relief he felt that Draco would at least be somewhere more like home. He immediately penned a letter to Neville and slotted the rest of the afternoon to play with Teddy in front of a roaring fire.

Neville wrote him back within hours and said that Draco would be sent over there whether he liked it or not. Harry begged his leave of Andromeda and gave Teddy another squeeze, desperate to get out of the house before Draco showed up. He couldn’t stand to face Draco, he didn’t want to see that need he felt deep inside him mirrored on Draco’s face.

“I’ll keep him safe, don’t worry,” Andromeda said, putting a thin arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“I’m not worried,” Harry said, looking away from her.

“Hey, I don’t know the story, Harry. But I know that look well enough. He’ll be okay here.”

Harry walked down Andromeda’s front path as quickly as he could, getting out of the wards so that he could apparate. He raised his wand, but heard the familiar ‘pop’ right next to him. He couldn’t leave now, his cowardice would be astounding then.

“Hey Harry!” Neville said, taking Draco’s arm.

Harry winced, and then hated himself for it. Did he really think he could just disappear because Draco was blind? What kind of man did that make him? He straightened his spine and put on his best smile for Neville.

He saw Draco tense and whip his head around when Neville greeted him. Harry’s fingers twitched to reach out to Draco, to feel what he felt a week ago…to feel complete. He couldn’t fathom that Draco Malfoy was that missing piece, and the concept scared him beyond rationality. But seeing Draco there, angry like fire though he was trying to keep calm woke something up inside of Harry that he tried desperately to keep hidden.

“Potter,” Draco said curtly, nodding and turning toward the house as though he knew where he was going. Harry wanted to heard his name on Draco’s lips, wanted to hear a breathy moan from Draco’s throat.

In that moment, he wanted to fall at Draco’s feet and apologize. He wanted to let go of every ounce of pride he had just to fill a little bit of that hole inside of him. He knew that Draco wouldn’t forgive that easily, but Harry’s fervent need to escape from his own fears was replaced with overwhelming desire.

“Did you want to stay for dinner, Harry…Neville?” Andromeda said, winking at Harry. She seemed to think this was a game, but at least she had given him a reason to stay.

Neville begged off shortly after dinner, wanting to stay at his Grandmother’s for the night and catch up with her. Harry offered to give Teddy a bath, wanting any reason to stay as late as he could and stay near Draco. The electricity coming off of the other wizard was enough to keep Harry awake for days.

As Teddy cooed and giggled in the tub, splashing Harry with joy, Andromeda showed Draco to his room. Harry froze, feeling bad for listening, but his curiosity overpowered his sense of ethics. He leaned back, pretending to be filling a cup up with water.

“Mrs. Tonks, I…I can’t…” Draco stammered.

“Think nothing of it, Draco. I don’t have a lot of family left, and I’d like to think that the bitterness of the past has no place in my future,” She said, her voice faltering a little. Harry turned around to see that Draco had taken her hand for a moment before disappearing into his room.

Harry lifted Teddy out of the tub and wrapped his soft blue towel around the shivering toddler. He thought carefully about what Andromeda had said to Draco, and damned his own actions. He wasn’t living in the same world he was when Draco and he came to blows at Hogwarts. Everyone had lost so much, Draco included, and everything Harry had fought for would be for nothing if he held onto that fear and doubt that covered his soul during the war.

Harry got Teddy’s pajamas on, ruffling his hair, which had turned bright red as he warmed up. He grabbed a dummy and a cup of warmed milk to get Teddy soothed to sleep. He put the child against his shoulder and walked into Draco’s room.

“Did you want to hold your cousin?” Harry asked quietly. Draco made to get up, but Harry put a hand on Draco’s shoulder and sat him back in his chair.

_blame me, i will wear it_  
in the empty hollow part of my  
garden 

Draco pulled the child to his chest, and he laid his small head on Draco’s shoulder. He sighed contently, relieved that the toddler seemed to be at east with him. He leaned his nose against Teddy’s head and inhaled. He smelled so sweet, so innocent, and so peaceful that Draco felt like he could fall asleep in that chair.

“His hair changes colors too,” Harry said, and Draco could hear the smile in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“Tonks…Nympahdora was a metamorphmagus. She could change her hair color, her facial features, just about everything,” Draco could hear Harry’s voice quiet a little. “I wish she could see his hair now.

“What color is it?”

“Why don’t you look for yourself?”

“Fuck off.”

“Isn’t he worth it?” Harry said, walking closely and handing Teddy the cup of milk to drink was he began to fall asleep.

“Using him to get me to see again? That’s cold. But then again, I can’t be surprised. Your actions from last week prove that Slytherin wouldn’t have been such a bad fit,” Draco said, masking his hurt behind barbed words.

“I just can’t believe you’d want to be vulnerable like this,” Harry whispered.

“Nothing is worth it anymore.”

Harry sighed and pulled Teddy from Draco’s arms. He heard him walk down the hallway and heard the creaking of the boy’s cot. Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. At least he was free of Harry for another night. At least he was free of the pressure, the guilt, the fear and the doubt.

Swift footsteps told Draco he wasn’t getting a reprieve, but before he could react, Harry’s hands were on his face and his lips were touching Draco’s in such a soft, tender, way that it almost pained Draco with need.

“See me.” Harry whispered, and began to kiss lightly up and down Draco’s neck.

“I can’t…I can’t…”

“See me,” Harry said again, more forcefully. He took Draco’s hands and placed them on his face.

“I shouldn’t have left you there. What we had, it was, it was like nothing else. I just, I didn’t understand it, and I still don’t. But I need you, Draco. I know this was all sudden, and fast, and it makes no fucking sense at all, but being around you wakes up something inside of me.”

Draco flexed his fingers around Harry’s face, taking in the prick of stubble underneath the pads of his fingertips. He leaned forward, and heard Harry’s mouth part and the breath move between his lips. He smelled Harry’s breath, still lingering with the pumpkin juice with dinner. He felt Harry’s body move with every heartbeat. He tried to picture the way Harry looked in that moment, but the last time Draco had actually seen Harry Potter, he was walking out of a magnificent courtroom. He had no idea the look that Harry carried on his face in this moment.

“See me…”

Draco closed his eyes and looked into his own mind.

“I’m right here in front of you.”

Draco moved past the horrific images of Voldemort, of his mother being tortured, of Crabbe in the fire.

“You’re safe.”

He looked beyond Carl Shunpike’s innocent face, beyond the dungeon, and behind the slivers of light below the door.

“Draco…”

Draco found the curse, a burst of white light in his mind’s eye, and he imagined it gone, he sent it away from his mind like all of the unwanted images.

He opened his eyes and the light in the room burned. Draco winced and fell backward against the chair. He tried to get used to the light, but the light still stung and made his eyes water. Finally, his swimming vision clarified, and he saw Harry kneeling in front of him, brushing away the tears falling down his cheek from the burning light.

Draco grabbed Harry’s face and held it still, taking every inch, every twitch of muscle, and marveling at the small curve of his lips upward into a smile. He ran his fingers over Harry’s smiling lips, licking his own.

Draco Malfoy had seen so much ugliness, so much pain, and some of the most unspeakable things that had occurred during Voldemort’s second rise to power. He had cowered in fear and burned with grief. But looking directly into the unkempt, unshaven visage of Harry’s smirking face, Draco felt a flicker of hope, and he clung to it as he brought Harry’s lips to his own.

_you will never make me_  
learn to lay beneath the mountain  
'cause i'll only lie  
down by the waterside at night 


End file.
